Knitting in the City 01 Neanderthal Seeks Human (9 page)

I felt marginally better after the brief ministrations; my hair, however, was a complete disaster. I thought about asking Quinn if his sister owned any hair ties or barrettes or rope or anything I might be able to use to tame the wild beast. In the end I just wore the fuzzy mess of knots loose down my back, over my shoulders, and- at times- in my face. I figured, worst case scenario, I could try to use it to clandestinely cover my am
ple bosom.

While we walked to the breakfast cafe, however, Quinn would brush it back from my cheeks
when it became too unruly which invariably caused my skin to burn scarlet and I would lose all semblance of thought or focus. Directly following these interactions I prattled on about the concept of leap seconds, nano technology, and the inevitable space elevator which would allow the moon to rival Disney World as a tourist destination.

Quinn didn’t talk much but seemed to listen with interest to each of the various and sundry topics; he asked questi
ons periodically; the moon space elevator in particular drew an avalanche of questions. When I didn’t have all the answers I promised I would email him a link to the NASA update page for the project.

Presently, we sat quietly at the counter. I was trapped between him and the wall and stared without seeing at my menu. Maybe it was the fact that I was silent for the first time since leaving the apartment but I found myself attempting to ignore the sudden uncomfortable yet omnipresent self-awareness which was alternately giving me goosebumps and making my neck hot.

His thigh brushed against mine, his elbow grazed mine lightly; I leaned against the wall to gain as much distance as possible but couldn’t avoid the small touches in the tight space. I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes; he appeared completely at ease, studying his menu, oblivious to the gentle torture his careless closeness was causing. So absorbed in my discomfort, I was somewhat startled at the sound of the waitress’ voice.

“Heya Quinn. Where
s Shelly? Whoz yer friend?” a short, dark haired woman in her late fifties or early sixties gave me a brief friendly smile as she placed two mugs of coffee in front of us. She had the unmistakable rasp of a smoker and, paired with the thick mid-west accent, she sounded like Mike Ditka.

“Shelly left early this morning and couldn’t come. This is Janie. Janie, this is Viki.”

I dumbly reached my hand over the counter and tried to look and sound more composed than I felt, “It’s nice to meet you, Viki.”

She held her hands up, “Oh, baby, my hands are covered in grease. You don’t wanna shake deeze unless you wanna wash yer hands with turpentine.” A deep, gravelly laugh escaped her lips as she pulled out an order pad and pen, “But it sures nice to meetcha. Are you a friend of Shelly’s?”

Before I could answer that I didn’t know Shelly, Quinn interrupted me, “She’s here with me.”

Viki lifted her brow
, for it truly was a single brow, in what I guessed was surprise and her mouth formed a small ‘O’. I felt her eyes move over me with renewed interest. I started to blush. I gripped the menu a little harder and tried to swallow but found the simple action difficult.

“That’s-” Viki blinked, her big brown eyes still continuing their open assessment, her mouth moved but she seemed to struggle for words, “-well, that’s a surprise.”

My cheeks burned; I could hear my heart drum and the blood rush between my ears. I knew that this Viki person didn’t mean to be rude; she looked honestly perplexed and, if I was reading her awkward soundlessness correctly, she was obviously stunned at the possibility that Quinn and I could be there as a couple. I felt the need to distance myself from the notion, make certain she believed I was aware that the very idea was beyond ludicrous.

I need to make certain that she knows that I know that he knows he isn’t interested...
I was starting to confuse myself.

Before I realized that I was speaking the verbal diarrhea spilled forth: “Oh we’re not together. I mean, we’re sitting together and we came here together but obviously we’re not
together
-together. How could
we
be together?  I’m probably never going to see him again after today. We’re not even friends. I don’t even know him. I mean, you know, really-” I inclined my head toward her and a small laugh burst from my lips, “can you even imagine? It’d be like
Planet of the Apes
- and he’s Charlton Heston with all the muscles and such and I’m that girl ape. They can’t be together because it’d be like a Neanderthal with a human, cross species breeding…and that’s just not right. Although Neanderthals are closely related to humans and are in fact part of the same species- if you want to be precise- they are a sub-species or alternate species of human...”

I glanced at him and
gave him a closed mouth smile. I categorically hoped it dually conveyed confidence and cheerful ambivalence to the very obvious disparity in our compatibility. His eyes, however, narrowed as they watched me. I wondered if he found my analogy to be imperfect; maybe he didn’t like Charlton Heston… maybe it was due to NRA involvement; conversely, he did seem like the sort to like guns.

I cleared my throat and continued, “And why would Charlton Heston want to be with the ape? No one would, even though she has this huge- huge... brain.”

Viki blinked at me then looked at Quinn, “Where didja meet this one?”

Viki’s question was directed at Quinn but I couldn’t help answer, hoping to make up for my gaffe, “I met him last week and before that I saw him a few times at my building where he works as a security guard. I used to work as an accountant there before I was downsized.”

Viki’s unibrow crinkled over her nose until it came to a point, “A security guard?”

I gulped in air and gave her a tight smile as I reached for my coffee, wanting to change the subject, “I love coffee.
 Brazil is now the world leader in the production of green coffee but, in East Africa and Yemen, coffee was used in native religious ceremonies that competed with the Christian Church. Because of this the Ethiopian Church banned secular consumption of coffee for many years.” I brought the mug to my lips and sipped the bitter black brew, mostly to keep myself from talking. The coffee burned my tongue. I ignored it. “Mmmmm, coffee.”

Viki’s eyes moved between me and Quinn, her unibrow still suspended on her face, “Riiiight.” she finally said.

I heard Quinn clear his throat before he spoke, “She’ll have eggs over easy, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast with extra butter. I’ll have the usual.” As he ordered he pulled my menu away and handed it to Viki along with his and I noted his voice sounded different, distant. Viki gave us both a small, quizzical smile as she left.

I sipped more of my black coffee and glanced again at Quinn. He wasn’t looking at me; his mouth was a precise straight line and his temple ticked as he flexed his jaw. I couldn’t read his sculpted features. I felt like I must have embarrassed him or said something inappropriate. Th
is was not a new feeling for me, regretting my words; but, this time, I felt remorse on his behalf.

I set the cup down and sighed, “I’m sorry.” I tried pulling my fingers thought my hair but again abandoned the effort when I encountered unruly knots. “I have a bad habit of saying what I’m thinking and-”

He held his hand up and shook his head, “No- no need to apologize.” He gave me a tight smile that didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes, “You were just being... honest. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a Neanderthal.”

“You’re not a Neanderthal.” I frowned at him, “For one thing, you’re far too tall. And, I was comparing myself to the Neanderthal due to their physical features. You know- the size of their heads.”

“So, you’re saying your head is larger than mine?”

“Yes. No- what I mean is, they have big awkward heads, or are believed to have had big awkward heads, large for their body. Then, there is also the hair.”

“Hair?”

“Yes, hair. It is hypothesized that red hair-” I gestured to my crazy-town curls
, “comes from Neanderthal inter-breading with earliest humans.”

“So, Neanderthals and humans did breed?”

“Yes. Female humans and male Neanderthals may have bred successfully- which, if you think about it, isn’t so far-fetched as big headed men and small- er, normal headed woman still breed quite often today. But, currently, scientists believe that the male humans who mated with female Neanderthals created sterile offspring. They believe this because there is a lack of Neanderthal mitochondrial DNA present in modern humans. So, as you can see and if you reflect on it, awkward headed-females mating with beautifully normal headed-males is a bad idea.”

He blinked at me once, frowned, then turned his attention to his coffee. Unbearable silence lay like a thick blanket of
soot around us. I figured he was regretting his decision to invite me to breakfast. I thought about comparing myself to a donkey and him to a horse but instead bit my lip to keep from speaking.

I noted his cheeks, neck, and the bridge of his nose were ti
nged with a faint shade of pink, likely due to annoyance with my fumbled conversation. I searched my brain for anything which would distract him. An abrupt thought came to me and, for lack of a better strategy, I decided to resort to a parlor trick which usually either amazed or endeared me to people. It would also be an excellent demonstration of my freakishness but I didn’t really have anything to lose.

I licked my lips before speaking, “So, uh, want to see a trick?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his tone flat, “Sure.”

I turned in my seat to face him, resting my elbow and arm along the counter. “Give me any two numbers and I can give you their value in addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.”

He turned toward me, met my gaze with a disbelieving one of his own, “What- in your giant brain?”

I noted that he sounded interested, which I felt was an improvement, but chose to ignore his
giant brain
comment. “Yes. In my brain. No paper.”

His mouth hooked to the side just barely, “Any two numbers?”

I nodded once, “Try me.”

He turned his body to me completely and I tried to ignore how his legs bumped into me, one of his knees settling between mine as we faced each other. “Hmmm...” his gaze narrowed speculatively, “Ok, 400 and 700.”

I wrinkled my nose, “Addition: 1100, subtraction: negative 300, multiplication: 210000, division: .57 yada yada yada. Ok, give me a hard one now.”

He blinked at me, his mout
h slightly open, then he smiled; it was a small albeit real smile and rubbed his hands on his thighs, “Fine. A hard one then: 21 and 5124.”

I let out a breath of relief, our earlier unpleasantness seemingly forgotten. “5145, 5103, 107604, and... .004 yada yada yada. That wasn’t a hard one.”

He half laughed half sighed, “How do you do that?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ve just always been able to.
It comes in handy on Thursdays.”

“What happens on Thursdays?”

“I tutor at the Kid’s Club on Thursday afternoons in math and science. Sometimes, if I can’t get them to focus, I distract them with my ‘
freakishness
’.” I used air quotes for the word ‘
freakishness
’ then frowned. I hated it when people used air quotes. It was like when someone says ‘
we
’ instead of ‘
I
’. As in ‘
We would be so delighted… we just did the laundry… we have a yeast infection.
’

“Why did they downsize you? It seems like you would make an incredible accountant.”

“I don’t know that either. My friend Kat- she still works there- she was going to try to find out but hasn’t been able to find the reason.”

He took a sip of his coffee then said, “Has anyone else been let go?”

“No. I’m the only one. But you have to admit, I’m pretty strange. Maybe they were just looking for an excuse to get rid of me. I have a tendency to make people uncomfortable with- you know- trivial facts.” I was about to air quote ‘
freakishness
’ again but successfully suppressed the urge.

“Hm.” His clear blue eyes narrowed as they studied me. “Are you-” he set his cup down and leaned a little closer, “Do you have a photographic memory?”

I laughed despite myself, mostly due to nervousness caused by his proximity, “No, God no. I’d forget my name if it weren’t on my driver’s license.” Then I frowned at the inaccuracy of my statement, “Actually, I don’t have a driver’s license since I moved to the City, but my name is on my credit card and my state ID.”

He continued to survey me for a long minute then asked, “Have you found a job yet?”

I shook my head and rolled my lips between my teeth. Even though it had only been a week and half and I was eligible for unemployment, I felt anxiety about my current state of being out of work.

He reached for his coffee and watched me over the rim of the cup as though he were considering something, considering me. When he put his cup down he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card and a pen, “I think I might be able to help you.” He wrote on the back side of the business card.